Cut by numbers (with images)

I thought I’d try using AI images again. The images aren’t quite accurate to the descriptions, as is the nature of AI images.

Please let me know what you think of them and this story.

 

I was surprised to see three young women walk into my barbershop. It was a hot day at the start of summer and my co-worker had ‘called off sick’ so I staffed the shop alone. It had already been a back to back all day so far and the crowded barbershop was a clear indication it wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.

“Take a number and take a seat” I called out. It was clear to me that they hadn’t so much as stepped foot in a barbershop in there whole life. Each of them did and took their place in the waiting area.

It wasn’t completely unheard of to see women in the barbershop. Mothers would bring in there children and sometimes you would see more masculine women come in because it’s much cheaper than the salons in this area. One of my co-workers swears that someone brought there daughter in once after she was bullying a girl with cancer.

But you never saw women like those who had just walked through the door. They were hot, drop dead gorgeous cheerleader types. Because of the weather they dressed, if that’s the right word, in incredibly revealing clothes. My decision to not cover my shoulders drew glances from many of my older clients but they seemed to be challenging each other to seat who could wear the least.

The first girl, Blondie let call her, was wearing a white top that hid none of her shoulders or midriff. Blondie’s bottom half was hardly covered in a pare of denim jean shorts so short that I swear you could see her underwear. Her skin was tanned, although not as much as the other two, and perfectly toned. I wondered if my imagining of a cheerleader aesthetic was more accurate than I first thought. Her hair was picture perfect, long, sun kissed platinum blonde. The sort of hair you imagine when you think about princesses or would spend thousands at fantasy salons trying to replicate. It was tied in a thick ponytail the ends of which swung around her waist and had the gentlest of rolling curves down its length.

The second girl we’ll call Curly. As the name suggests, her hair was a coppery reddish brown mass of curls. If it was straightened it would likely have been the longest hair of all of them. She was dressed similarly to Blondie, only in a black top that didn’t cover her back except for a few strings and with a darker vibe. Her similarly perfect skin and muscles where much more tanned and adorned with tasteful tattoos. Her bellybutton was pierced and was wearing allot more jewellery than the other two girls.

The third girl we’ll call Glasses because of the slightly nerdy pair on her face. That was the only thing you could call nerdy about her look, because other than that, she was dressed in a manner you could only call scandalous. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn her top was lingerie and her shorts where so short I could see her pink underwear and most her butt. Ironical, she was probably the most covered despite being the least dressed. Her long thick brunette hair covered her entire body like a blanket. It’s ends reached all the way down and tickled the bottom of her thighs.

They each looked incredible. Like they had walked off a magazine cover. I could tell they where confident but being the centre of attention in a barbershop packed with men. Many of them older and unafraid to hide their stares. Clearly made whatever confidence they had fade away into nothing. Each of them tried to cover as much skin as possible by smoothing out there clothes or throwing there hair over there breast.

I could stare for to long though as I had to focus on the client in my chair. My clippers ran over his head stripping him down to a barely visible buzz. It was too hot for me to bother with scissors. And I was already on my last rope from the hours I had spent working the shop alone. That’s why I worked quickly shearing through clients winter regrowth. I called “next” through gritted teeth. Cursing my boss for not bothering to fix the AC.

Soon it was Blondie’s turn. I had worked quickly but somehow the shop was even busier than when I arrived.

“Next” I called out. The poor girl hesitated, “that’s you missy”

She stood up walked over towards me and sat herself in my barbers chair. I could tell she felt uncomfortable by the look of disgust she had stepping over the piles of clipping on the ground. Her fingers hesitated when touching the barbers seat, only to settle down when she realised it was much comfier then those at the salons.

“What are we doing today missy?” I greeted her and began to pump the chair up.

“Well I, like, love the length. But it’s sooooooo (yes she used that many o’s) hot and, I do tennis, and it gets so hot…” she continued rambling on in the same home county, public school, accent that makes you not like someone regardless of what they say. “So I went to my, like normal salon, that place on Marshall Street, you know. And they weren’t open. Apparently my stylist had gone on holiday. Berry-ment, Berry-vent?”

“Bereavement” I corrected her.

“Yeah, there. And she’s cancelled, MY appointment, without even telling me. Like can you believe that?”

I considered correcting her but couldn’t be bothered. The heat seemed to be melting me. But more likely it was what I was hearing. “No. So what are we doing?”

“And like” she seemed to ignore my question and kept talking. It was really getting on my nerves by this point. “I have this party later, so I need my hair done. And I saw this place had a female hairstylist”

“Barberette” I corrected her but she carried on talking.

“So I thought I’d stop by. It’s a simple haircut, not like any colour, so I figured it would be easy enough.”

I counselled a sign. Many of the men in the store noticed. Her ponytail swinging behind my chair was the centre point to everyone’s attention.

“So you want something simple, that doesn’t get to hot and isn’t annoying when you are playing tennis” I stated flatly as I tied a paper collar around her neck followed by the same cape I had used on all my clients that day.

“Yes, please”

“Is like two inches right” I touched the end of my ponytail as I spoke.

She suddenly seemed quieter. “Can you do one? Or is that still going to be too warm?”

“No one inch will definitely be cool enough in this weather.” I smile to my self. A wicked horrible smile. “Do you want me to use scissors or clippers”

“Like nail clippers” allot of the guys watching burst out laughing. Her eyes looked lost, like she was missing some joke.

“It’s fine” I comforted her, then began.

I grabbed hard at the top of her ponytail. She yelped in pain when I pulled her ponytail taut. Her back slammed against the chair.

“What the Fu…” She began to scream only to go silent when my scissors approached her head. “NOOooo” she cried.

Scchnip. Snip. SNIP.

The blades sliced together with a final crunch.

She looked at me through teary eyes. “Much better. One inch in length will be so much cooler for you”

The captive audience roared and laughed in approval. All except for her two friends that sat with there jaws dropped. Eyes focused on the long platinum blonde ponytail that swung from my hand.

The poor girl looked as if she wanted to speak but was too overcome with emotion to say a word.

“Come on missy. Did you really expect a slight trim this is a barbershop, honey” I laughed as I spoke, so did the audience.

Her puffy red eyes focused on the severed ponytail hanging from her hand. I laid the hair on the table, grinning ear to ear.

“Give her a good shearing, Lisa” one of my regulars called out, to cackles and murmurs of approval from the audience.

“Head down missy” I put my hand on the back of her crooked uneven hair and pushed it forward so her chin touched against her chest.

She shuddered when my clippers roared to life. I held them high and theatrically flicked of the guard for the crowds amusement.

“Ever had clippers used on you”

“No” her voice could barely murmured a whisper.

“I think you’re going to like how this feels then”

I placed there vibrating blades at the back of her nape. Shivers ran down her spine. You could literally see her shaking.

I pushed the clippers up. Crashing into her hair with a loud gnawing sound. A strip of uncovered skin was left as they mowed through her hair. Long stands of thick blonde hair fell onto her cape. Most joining the pile of hair already on the ground but others sliding into coils on her lap.

“Nooo” her silent whimper felt like halfway between a moan and a groan. She sniffled when I grabbed her head again and buzzed another row next to the first.

“Just think, how much easier this will be to manage when you’re playing tennis” I continued to rid the back of her head, up to the occipital bone, of any hair. “And how much cooler your going to feel”

Her whimpering was barely audible over a mixture of my clippers and the guys watching comments.

“Bye bye, ponytail”

“Not long haired anymore, duck”

“Much better”

“I’ve always liked a girl with a skin head”

My clippers did there last pass at the back of her head. My nostrils filled with the unmistakable scent of cut hair. Her delicately scented shampoo mixing with the harsh smell of the chemical cleaner we used.

I yanked on the, still longish, hair on the top of her head and pulled her head to the side. My shears quickly and efficiently stripped away the hair hiding her ear. Just as it was exposed to for the first time, likely ever, I pushed her head to the other side. Her other ear received the same treatment, being ruthlessly stripped of any protective cover. I slipped a guard onto the clippers.

“Ready” she gulped. I pulled her head up and placed the clippers at her forehead. When she didn’t answer I pulled back, replacing her long blonde locks with a strip of mechanically buzzed hair. It looked much darker and was a mile away from long.

My clippers roared to life again, ploughing into her head. They violently stripped any of her once cherished locks from her head.

“That’s the bulk gone” I didn’t intend my statement to be as triumphant as it was. “You’re going to be so much cooler.”

She just stared. At her cut hair. Her skinned head. The old men, and her friends, staring at her. The tear streaks in her makeup. She reached up and touched her buzzed hair by her ear. Gasping as her fingers touched the sharp bristles of her hair. It was so short you could see her pale scalp underneath.

I battered her hand away and parted brushed her hair into it’s natural part. Then I flicked my clippers back on and smoothed the, less than one inch, hair on her head to fade into the sheared sides. It was a manly short style, without a hint of femininity except for the earrings or her body.

“All finished” I whipped her cape away. Sending the hair on her lap falling to the ground.

“Thank you” her voice shock, and she spoke more out of obligation than actual gratitude. Although I doubt she had much of that.

As she stood, legs shaking, her hands nervously rubbing her head, everyone stared and a few shouted out comments. She had turned a vibrant red from the attention.

“Give us a spin” one guy called out. To my surprise she did.

Blondie, not really a great nickname anymore, walked back to where her friends sat. Her seat had been taken up by someone else.

Another guy, at least fifteen years her senior, patted his leg, indicating for her to sit. To the amazement of everybody, the men in line, her friends, me, and even I suspect herself, she did. Planting her firm ass in the older man’s lap. He raised his hand to rub the back of her head and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and held in a giggle.

“Which of you girls is next?” I snapped Glasses and Curly out of watching there friend.

“We weren’t going to get a haircut”

“We just came with our friend”

“You take a number. You’re getting a haircut. I don’t make the rules” I absolutely, do make the rules. “So which of yous’ next”

The looked at each other shocked. Was this really happening. I grabbed Glasses wrist and pulled her out of the chair. She was more nervous so I figured she’d be more likely to run if given the chance.

“No” she groaned as I pulled her over to the barbers chair.

The audience was watching closely. A group of younger guys about her age entered the shop and locked there eyes on her. I pushed her down into the seat. She tried to get up but I pushed again harder into her shoulders.

She looked to her friends for support. The woman formerly known as, Blondie looked up. Several hands where rubbing and nuzzling her buzzed head. I could also see a hand on her crossed legs. Her fingers had reached up to nervously play with her hair, only to look lost when it found nothing.

“Give her a number one” the rest of the barbershop cheered as she pointed out one of the images on the wall. All except the girl whose hair was about to be cut. Silent tears ran down her face.

I ripped a strip of paper from it’s ream and tied it tight around her delicate neck. Then I brought the same cape over her, trapping her under its weight. I tossed her hair in front of the shoulder so I could clip the cape together at the back. Her silky brown locks gathered on the cape and in her lap.

“You have amazing hair”

“Thank you” she whimpered through her tears

“Such a pity to cut it” I gathered her hair into a single ponytail, as thick as my arm. And slid my scissors into it’s base.

A lifetime of cherished hair sheared off in seconds. All that remained was the long ponytail swinging from my hand. I held it up for the audience to see. She lifted her hands and felt the jagged uneven strands of hair that didn’t even reach her chin.

“My hair?”

“It’s gone” I spoke with a particular glee.

I lay her ponytail on my desk next to it’s blonde neighbour. Batted her hand back under the cape. And removed her glasses, leaving them next to her old ponytail.

“Head down” she moved her head to a submissive position, looking down at her lap. “Good girl”

The audience laughed at my taunting and the submissive position she found herself in.

“Your friend wants you to get a number one. That’s a high and tight with white walls do you know what that is?”

“No”

“What do you think guys would she suit a high and tight” the crowd nodded in approval. “You heard them.” I made a show of flicking my clippers back on.

The audience cheered and laughed watching her squirm. I pushed the hair at her nape up so my clippers could cut into it’s roots. The buzzing sound turned into mowing when the blades crashed into her hair. Long strands were sawed loose and began to litter the salons tiled floor.

“Your going to love having no hair back here” I continued to strip the back of her head bare. “So much cooler, so much less hassle every morning”

I shoved her head to the side and started slicing the hair from around her ears. Long strands began to collect in her lap of her former crowning glory. Both ears were stripped naked. Then I snapped a guard onto the clippers.

Quickly and efficiently, like I had done with every guy in my chair that morning, I planted the gnawing blades at her forehead. And dragged back. Her scalp shock and vibrated as the blades carved a path through her beautiful thick mane. Destructing any hope of a feminine haircut she might have.

Once I stripped away the last strands of long hair I changed guard. I smoothed out where the, less then a centimetre of, hair at her crown met the pale bare skin around her ears and nape. My fingers ran down her scalp, still not satisfied with the finish.

“This will give you a lovely smooth shave” I smiled as I switched to a smaller more precise pair of guard less clippers.

She shivered as they passed over her nape. Not a single strand of stubble survived. There blades sculpting the sides of her ‘high and tight with white walls’, although she still didn’t know what that meant.

“That you finished” I whipped her cape away, sending a wave of brown locks flying.

Her hands reached up to touch the sensitive uncovered by her ears. She didn’t really know what it meant until she put on her glasses and saw herself for the first time. Her uncovered ears, the pale skin revealed to sunlight for the first time ever. Her exposed neck and body, that wouldn’t be covered by her silken brown vail for years too come. And the centimetre at her crown. The cut lacked any hint of femininity. Only brutish, militaristic, sharp strands of what was once so beautiful.

She looked at me. But, didn’t say anything. I knew what she wanted to say. But I didn’t care. She whipped around, was a little surprised not to feel heavy hair whipping after her. And walked back to the bench. Blondie was still sat on that stranger’s lap. Curly was nervous stroking her curls.

“You can sit here if you want.” A man over twice her age said. Patting his lap.

I could feel her roll her eyes. As if to say ‘this can’t get any worse’. She sat down on his lap, and bowed her head so he could rub her buzzed head.

“You’re next Curly” I was so lost in the momentum that I didn’t realise that I had called her by my made up name.

She didn’t try to resist, or cry like her friends. But acted stoic. Much more confident than I had expected. Even though none of this was in her control, she made it feel like she was in complete control of everything around her.

She took her place in my chair. Even lifting her hair out of the way so I could wrap a paper collar around her neck. Followed by the same heavy cape that had sealed her friends fate.

“Can you leave some length on the top. I still want to keep something curls”

“Sure” I wouldn’t have offered this to the others. But, since she seemed nicer than them I figured I might as well. “And the side’s, clippers or some curls there too”

“Whatever will look best”

“Ok”

I realised that she was the least attached to her hair of the three of them. Or at least not the length. That’s not to say she wanted to cut her hair. I think, to coin a saying, she wouldn’t have cut her hair in a hundred years compared to her friends never in a million.

Perhaps that’s why she didn’t take her chance to run. Or maybe, in this weather, with her thickness of curls she just wanted something easier. Either way, those long curls are not long for this world.

I tied her hair into a thick ponytail at the top off her neck. It was so thick I didn’t bother trying with clippers. Instead I plunged my guardless clippers above the rubber band. Her thick curls didn’t cut easily, but the vibrating blades where able to slice through each hair individually. I pushed in further, and pulled tighter, until each individual strand was cut. And the long, thick, ponytail in my hand was severed from her head.

“Much lighter” I wiggled the ponytail for the crowd, then tossed the hair into the pile with her friends. The audience gave there normal cheers of approval.

She shock her head from side to side. Smiling when she felt her hair bounce. “I feel lighter already”

“It’s going to get even lighter” I clipped the crown of her bob up in a bun.

Using a comb I perfected the part at the sides, with a little more hair clipped up at the back. Then I flicked my clippers back on. The roared and screeched as I ran them into her hair. Long curls scattered over the cape. Some joining her friends hair on the ground. The clippers mowed her hair to the slightest stubble with ruthless efficiently.

Within moments all the hair beneath the part was gone. She could see the hair collected at her crown in a bun. But below. Only stubble. You could see the shape of her head and her uncovered ears. For the first time since she was a baby.

I realised the hair from the bun so it scattered around her head.

“That feels weird”

“I know must be really airy”

Some of the audience laughed. And watched her shaking her head so her long hair brushed against her sensitive scalp.

“I just need to shape this up a bit” I picked up strands of hair and started to sprites them. Not enough to make them wet rather just saturating the thick strands. Then I lifted a strand high and… snip. The severed lock fluttered into her lap. She gasped as she saw how the strand now framed her face.

I quickly set about cutting more. The pile of severed hair grew larger. My blades sculpted her hair into a somewhat playful long pixie. The long floppy hair at her crown contrasting the brutalist shorn sides.

“All done” I whipped her cape off. Coppery brown curls joined the brunette and blonde locks on the ground.

“Thank you” she smiled when she bounced out the chair. Unlike her friends, I think she meant it.

She walked back and another client got up to step towards me. He was a regular customer, probably approaching fifty. He had mentioned he use to be a barber before he had a career move twenty odd years ago.

“I need to take there payment first. I won’t be a minute”

“That can wait just a minute. Lisa” just as I contemplated those words, I felt it. His hand, firmly, smacking into my ass.

I shot up. Like a soldier being called to attention as I tried to catch up with what was happening. Had he really just? Allot of the audience laughed as they watched.

“I think it’s unfair that you’re helping us all with the heat while carrying all this hair around.” He stroked his hand down the length of my long black braid. “It must be so hot?”

“Yes” I spoke but it felt like he had forced the word from me.

“Then why don’t I give you something cooler. Something that will make this heat less unbearable”

“But… my customers” any confidence I had left me. I felt like a school girl being told off.

“They don’t mind, do you guys?” The crowd nodded in agreement. Clearly wanting to see another woman in that chair. “And I’m sure the girls you just cut what to see you in that chair”

I looked around to see the three friends. Blondie was still sat giggling and blushing, like a school girl with there crush. The guy who’s lap she sat on whispering into her ear, his hand gripping her thigh. Glasses looked down so a few older guys could scratch at the back of her head.

Curly wandered along the line of waiting men. Each of them eagerly offering her a seat, until she came to one shy guy about her age. She gestured for him to let her sit then planted her firm ass in his lap. Leaning back so her neck rested against his shoulder, she whispered something in his ear. He turned bright red, then lifted his hand to touch the shaved parts of his scalp.

“Ow” I let out a high pitched squeak when he pinched my butt. Much of the audience didn’t hide there excitement.

“Take a seat”

“I don’t need a haircut… ow” he smacked my arse again.

“Stop being a brat” he grabbed my arm and throw me into the chair.

“But I don’t want to…”

“Young lady. You need a haircut, so just sit still and behave yourself.” I stopped resisting for a second, mostly so my mind could process what he had said. “Good girl”

Oh god. Of all the words he could have say why that? I felt my nipples stiffen when his hands gripped firm onto my shoulders. My reflection looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Or at least that’s how I felt.

He lifted my cape and wrapped it over me. Is this how those girls had felt. The fabric felt much heavier over me than when I had held it. I heard the click of it being tied around my neck. No going back now.

He lifted my braid. I gulped, hard.

“Ready” I wasn’t.

Snip. My own scissors began to saw into my braid. Snip, snip, snip.

My head was lighter. I looked up to the mirror. “Oh no”

He held up my severed braid like a trophy. Waving it for the crowd to admire. I felt short strands of my hair tickling around my neck and chin as my once long hair resembled a choppy bob.

The roar of him flicking on his clippers let me know that would be short lived. He tossed the braid to join the three ponytails on my desk. And brought the clippers to my forehead.

“Ready?” He didn’t wait for me to answer just dragging the clippers back into my hairline.

So this is how it feels. The blades vibrating against my scalp. The hairs falling loose, rolling over my face and collecting in my lap. I didn’t even notice the crowd jeering behind us. My entire mind was consumed by the blades carving a pale strip across my scalp.

Then another as the blades returned to shear away more and more hair. I felt the guardless clippers tickling my scalp and more and more of my cherished hair being severed. The pile of my midnight black hair in my lap grew larger and larger. I thought back to all the time, money, and effort I spent pampering them. I guess that was all in vain now.

He tiled my head. Not even pretending to be gentle, just shoving it to the side. He pushed my ear down and ran the blades over the side of my head until not a single hair remained. Just as quickly as he sheared the last hair, my head was shoved to the right. He repeated the process again. Nothing remained of my hair except for at my neck the sides and top where completely gone.

“Maybe I should leave this. You could have a cute little rat tail” he laughed. Gripping the longest strands. “But I think you’d like to feel how cool this is”

He ran the clippers up my nape. Separating me from the last of my long hair. Only an uneven short stubble remained on my head. It felt weird. Being so exposed I felt every breath of air echo over my skull. And every little bit of cream he spread over me.

I felt a straight razor brush it off and realised what that meant. I didn’t want to move out of fear of getting cut. So I simply closed my eyes and felt his razor brush over my skull. Twice it scraped off every little strand off stubble.  When I opened my eyes not a single hair remained, I was completely bald.

“All done” he declared. Whipping of the cape so my hair joined the others on the floor. “Must be so much cooler”

“Yeah I guessed” my hands still afraid to reach up to touch my head.

“Tell you what. Why don’t I help you out. There’s clearly too many customers for just you to cope with”

“But you don’t work here, I can’t pay you”

“I’ll take those as payment” he pointed to the four ponytails on the table. I wondered what use he had for them. “And once where finished I’m sure you could think of some form of payment”

He smacked my butt again as I was just standing up. A few of the guys laughed at my distress.

“Mind if I stay a bit. He’s offered to pay for my haircut once he’s done” Blondie called out and I nodded my agreement. It felt weird nodding when it didn’t cause the weight of my hair to shift.

I bit my lip and looked back at the man who had just shaved my head. Part of me was terrified to find out what alternate payment he would demand. Another part of me couldn’t wait.

 

fin